Janet McNulty - Mellow Summers 08 - Trick Or Treat Or Murder

by Janet McNulty

  I ran from our hiding spot and darted after him with Jackie and Greg close behind. Once outside, I found no sign of the man, but I did find a small row boat in the creek directly beside us. I picked up one of the oars and studied it. Is this how he got here? Was this how he meant to leave?

  Dropping the oar, I walked up the small rise, but found no sign of the man.

  “Mel,” said Greg, “Will you slow down?”

  “Sorry,” I apologized.

  “Hey,” Rachel appeared beside me, “How’d you like my distraction?”

  “What?” I said.

  “My distraction,” said Rachel. “I’m the one that made the noise so he would leave. That way you all could get out of there.”

  “Oh, it was great. Good thinking.”

  Rachel beamed clearly proud of herself. She had no reason not to be. And she did get rid of him.

  I took a better look around trying to place where we were on the estate. The house was a good way away from us and we were far enough from the windows to not be seen. However, I could see clearly inside the house since all of the lights were on.

  “I’m surprised Detective Shorts hasn’t sent a search party out for us yet,” commented Jackie.

  As though he had heard her, my cell phone rang. I answered on the first ring making another mental note to put it on vibrate.

  “Miss Summers?”

  “Yes?”

  “Where are you?” asked Detective Shorts with a note of worry.

  “Uh,” I didn’t know what to tell him.

  “Miss Summers?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m waiting for an answer.” His voice conveyed annoyance.

  “Outside,” I said. What was the point in lying?

  “Outside? What are you doing outside?”

  “Looking around.” Even in my head the answer sounded lame.

  “You were supposed to stay in the house,” said Detective Shorts.

  “We meant to, but we found this secret tunnel and it led us out here. However, I did find out where the killer was standing when he shot that poison dart at Mr. Smythe.”

  “Really?” Detective Shorts sounded somewhat placated. The fact that I had brought a small break in the case probably helped. “Okay, I want you all back here now.”

  “But—”

  “I said now!”

  He hung up. I didn’t want to go back yet. Especially since things were just starting to get interesting. Did I really just think that? Just starting to get interesting? As though they weren’t made interesting enough with a dead guy. I must have been spending too much time with Rachel. I guess things do rub off on you.

  “Okay guys,” I said, “Detective Shorts wants us back in the house.”

  We started toward the big mansion when something caught my eye. A light spilled from the greenhouse several yards away. Who would be in the greenhouse at this time of night?

  I ran for it.

  “Mel!”

  Jackie and Greg followed after me with Rachel. Before I reached the door I paused. What if it was that guy we had seen in the archway as we left the secret tunnel?

  I tried peering through the plastic panels of the greenhouse, but could not make out who was inside.

  “Mel,” hissed Jackie as the others caught up with me. “What are you doing?”

  “There’s someone in there,” I said.

  Jackie peeked around my shoulder and saw the flashlight beam.

  “Odd,” she said.

  “I think it might be that same guy.”

  “I think we ought to go,” said Greg. “That guy didn’t look too happy and I don’t think he will appreciate us being here.”

  “He won’t.”

  We all jumped. While we argued about going inside, the man must have heard us and come out to see what was going on. “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “We might ask the same of you,” said Greg.

  “I’m here for the party,” he replied. An obvious lie. He wasn’t wearing a costume and his boots were way too muddy, which meant he had spent most of his time outside.

  “I don’t believe you,” said Jackie. “We are here for the party. You were never inside and you aren’t dressed up in a costume.”

  “If you’re here for the party then what are you doing out here?”

  “I saw your flashlight and got curious,” I said. I noticed Rachel slip something out of the man’s pocket. He never felt or saw anything; being too focused on us.

  “Answer me!” he yelled.

  “Miss Summers!” Detective Shorts must have grown tired waiting for us because he came out into the yard with his cops. “Miss Summers!”

  The man grew frightened and ran off. He darted into the trees. I started to chase after him, but Greg latched onto my arm and held tight.

  “There you are,” said Detective Shorts, “I told you to come in immediately.”

  “We were on our way when I noticed someone in the greenhouse,” I replied. “So we came to investigate.”

  “Did you get a good look at him?”

  Unfortunately, no. I shook my head. “He ran into the trees over there.”

  Detective Shorts waved two of his men to follow. They came back within five minutes reporting nothing.

  “Come on,” said the detective. “Inside. And you all can tell me what you’ve found.”

  Having little choice, we followed him back to the house.

  Chapter 6

  “Now,” said Detective Shorts as we walked inside, “show me the room you found.”

  We led him and his officers upstairs and to the in home gymnasium where we found the secret passage. The impatience of some of the officers came through prevalently. One grunt from the detective shut them up. I led everyone down the cobweb infested stairs in the passage, the stone interior echoing our steps marvelously.

  “Here,” I said opening the heavy, wooden door with its metal hinges. “This is the place.”

  Detective Shorts put on blue rubber gloves as he stepped into the room; his face all businesslike. I watched as he studied the walls and shelves with its hanging cobwebs and mounds of dust. A dust bunny drifted past my feet.

  “The hole in the wall is over there,” I said, pointing to where a small opening lay that looked into the party room. “I think that—”

  “Thank you, Miss Summers,” interrupted Detective Shorts. I guess he didn’t want me to give away something. Closing my mouth, I scooted back and clamped my hands together. Jackie and Greg had done the same. Thunder rolled above us. I thought it was a bit clichéd, but typical of Halloween.

  “OOO,” said Rachel next to me, “It was a dark and stormy Halloween night.” She had remained invisible, except to me, but everyone heard her.

  “Did you say something, Miss Summers,” asked Detective Shorts.

  “No,” I said.

  “Oh, come on,” said Rachel out loud, “what are you hanging out with these nincompoops for? Everyone knows that you are the only one who will solve this.”

  “Rachel,” I hissed.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Rachel said, tugging on my arm.

  “Rachel, please,” I tried to stop her.

  “Mel, you know they won’t solve it,” continued Rachel, oblivious to the fact that all eyes stared at us. “Who was it that solved the last several cases?”

  “Rach—”

  “Who was it?”

  “Me,” I whispered.

  “And who solved my murder?” demanded Rachel, her voice rising in volume.

  “Me,” I whispered.

  “Exactly! Now come on, we have a murder to solve.”

  “Rachel, I have to be here while they look for clues. I did promise to cooperate.”

  “They can take care of themselves,” Rachel yanked me out of the room.

  I can only imagine how the entire scene looked to everyone with Rachel pulling on my arm while I dragged my feet trying to stop her. My shoes made lines in the dirt as Rachel tugged me. Boy was she strong. The
more Rachel pulled on me the more I thought she would rip my arm out of its socket.

  “Besides, you don’t need the cops,” said Rachel, “You got me.”

  Jackie and Greg trailed behind us followed closely by Detective Shorts and a bunch of bewildered cops. Rachel remained oblivious to all of it.

  “Rachel!” I shouted.

  “What?” She dropped my arm. Finally, she noticed all of the people with us gawking at us. “Why are they staring at you so weirdly?” she asked.

  “Because they just witnessed me arguing with thin air while being dragged out of a room by nothing!”

  “Oh.” Rachel just stood there like nothing was wrong. Slowly, she materialized before everyone. “Oh, come on you guys. It’s Halloween! You’re bound to see a ghost on Halloween.”

  No one moved as silence filled the tunnel.

  “Tough crowd,” muttered Rachel.

  I surveyed the mixed looks on everyone’s faces; most were a combination of fear and confusion.

  “BOO!” yelled Rachel as she jumped up and down making a funny face at them.

  A few of the officers dropped everything and ran, their steps fading quickly. Detective Shorts shook his head in exasperation. I’m sure that the last thing he needed was for a ghost to put on some sort of display. The few that had remained looked as though they were frozen in fear. I glanced at Jackie and Greg. They shrugged their shoulders.

  “Wimps!” Rachel called after the ones that had run away.

  “Way to go, Rachel,” I said to her. “Now everyone will tell the story of how Mrs. Hamilton’s house is haunted by an insane ghost who likes to solve murders.”

  “Hey, that‘s a great idea,” said Rachel. “I can pose for pictures.” She did a funny little pose standing on one leg with her arms up. Just what I needed: a ghost who liked the limelight.

  A harsh cough filled the area. Detective Shorts stared at me with a look that indicated I needed to wrap this up.

  “Rachel,” I said pointing at him and the other officers.

  “Fine, I can take a hint,” said Rachel, “Ya’ll take care now!” She waved at the remaining cops in the tunnel and vanished. I dreaded what would show up in the morning papers.

  “Uh, I think we should all go back,” said Detective Shorts. “I want to thank you three for finding this room.”

  An officer remained there to corner off the room with crime scene tape. I felt sorry for him.

  We followed Detective Shorts back upstairs to the home gymnasium. He didn’t say a word. Jackie, Greg, and I passed questioning looks back and forth wondering if we would be chewed out for Rachel’s display. Personally, I think he just wanted to forget about it.

  “Go down and keep the guests occupied,” he said to the remaining officers that hadn’t run from Rachel’s antics. “I don’t want to know what just happened down there,” he turned to us, “I thank you for your help, but now I think it would be best if you join the other guests. I still have many more to interview before I can let you all go home.”

  “Detective, we can help,” I pleaded.

  “Yeah,” Jackie backed me up.

  “You’ve done enough already,” replied Detective Shorts, “Now, go back downstairs.”

  Feeling like I had just been brushed aside, I started to say something. Greg grabbed my arm shaking his head, telling me to keep my mouth shut. For once I obeyed. Jackie, Greg, and I headed for the stairs. A rustling sound caught my attention. As I glanced down the hallway, I saw Mrs. Hamilton try to hide behind a corner, but a portion of her costume stuck out.

  “Mrs. Hamilton,” I called.

  The woman pretended to ignore me.

  “Mrs. Hamilton!” I slipped out of Greg’s grip and chased after her. She turned and fled down another hallway.

  “Mel!” Greg and Jackie called as they followed after me.

  “Mrs. Hamilton, wait!” I continued chasing the old woman. For someone who was supposedly sick, she moved fast. I rounded the same corner that she had disappeared behind. Trapped, Mrs. Hamilton turned and faced me.

  “What do you want?” she hissed. Her voice sounded a bit different, but I didn’t think too much of it.

  “What are you doing up here?” I asked, And what were you doing up here earlier?”

  “Have you been following me?” she demanded.

  “No,” I said, “It’s just—”

  “Just go away!” Mrs. Hamilton peeked out of one of the windows. She looked frightened of something.

  “Mrs. Hamilton, is something wrong?”

  “Please,” she hissed, “leave me alone.”

  Greg and Jackie showed up with Detective Shorts right behind them.

  “What’s going on here?” asked the detective.

  “Nothing,” said Mrs. Hamilton, her voice lost its initial fear. “I just came up here to get a few things.”

  “I had specifically requested that all guests remain downstairs,” said Detective Shorts.

  “It’s my house,” replied Mrs. Hamilton, “I’ll do as I please.”

  “Mrs. Hamilton,” said Detective Shorts, “if you don’t come downstairs I’ll be forced to place you under arrest on suspicion of murder. If anything I can detain you for forty-eight hours without charge.”

  Mrs. Hamilton fidgeted clearly not liking the idea. “Very well, detective.”

  Together, the five of us made our way downstairs and back to the crowd of upset party guests. I could tell that many were eager to go home. Detective Shorts left us at the bottom of the steps and disappeared into the room where the questioning took place.

  Mrs. Hamilton bent over a bit as though she was about to faint. “Are you all right?” I asked her.

  “I just need to sit down.”

  “Jackie, why don’t you and Greg wait for me while I take care if Mrs. Hamilton.”

  “Sure thing,” said Jackie.

  I held onto Mrs. Hamilton’s arm while I walked her over to a chair near where the beverages were kept. She looked a bit pale. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

  “Thank you, dear,” she whispered.

  Hoping that she wouldn’t pass out, I hurried over to the punch table. The bowl was empty. Great. Taking a quick glance at Mrs. Hamilton’s hunched over form I ran into the kitchen, pushing and shoving people out of the way. No one bothered me as I slammed and banged cabinet doors in my haste to find a clean glass. It seemed as though they had all walked away.

  Found one!

  I snatched the last remaining clean glass and filled it at the sink with cool water. Carefully, I ran to the banquet hall. People remained oblivious to my efforts to get past them without spilling a drop of water. Hastily, I speed walked through the room back to where I left Mrs. Hamilton. I stopped cold. She had gone. Dismayed, I realized that her feeling faint was just an act to get rid of me so she could make a getaway. But why? This was her home. What made her feel as though she had to sneak around and then disappear?

  “Oh, I know, darling,” said a familiar voice.

  Mrs. Hamilton? I watched as she laughed and talked with another guest full of a surprising amount of energy for one who had felt ill moments before. Could she had just had a momentary faint spell and now was fine? Though a bit confused, I figured I had better give her the water.

  “Mrs. Hamilton,” I said, handing her the glass of water.

  “What’s this for, dear?”

  “It’s the water you requested,” I said. Was she suffering from memory loss too?

  “I never requested any water,” she said.

  “But you did a few minutes ago when we came downstairs,” I insisted, “You nearly fainted and I put you in that chair while I got your water.”

  “You must have me confused with someone else,” said Mrs. Hamilton, “I haven’t been upstairs all evening. Not since those cops came and this dreadful murder happened.”

  “But I saw you up there twice tonight. Me and my friends did,” I said. What was going on? Why was she lying?

  “I don�
�t think so. Tell her, Carla.”

  “She’s been with me all night,” said her friend.

  I studied the both of them. Their eyes said that they told the truth. “I’m sorry,” I said, “I guess I’m just a bit rattled from all this commotion this evening.”

  Mrs. Hamilton’s face softened. “It’s quite all right. This whole murder business would upset anyone.”

  I left the two women and went back to the beverage table where I placed the glass of water. No point in keeping it. I didn’t need it.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Greg as I found him and Jackie.

  “Mrs. Hamilton,” I said.

  “What about her?” asked Jackie.

  “We all saw her upstairs twice tonight, right?” I asked.

  “Yes,” they said.

  “Well, when we came downstairs she said she didn’t feel well. So I put her in a chair and got her a glass of water. When I returned, I found her talking to another guest insisting that not only had she not asked for water, but she hadn’t been upstairs all evening.”

  “That’s weird,” said Greg. “Why would she lie?”

  “That’s what I want to know,” I said.

  “Where’s Rachel?” asked Jackie.

  For the first time in several minutes I had actually wondered about her whereabouts. None of us had seen her since she tried to drag me out of the secret tunnel that ran under the estate. “No idea,” I replied.

  “Why hello, ladies,” said a particularly rotund and intoxicated man. He wobbled slightly on his feet while sloshing the bubbly liquid in his glass. We all backed away from his alcohol breath that also contained a hint of garlic.

  “Um, hi,” said Jackie, tentatively.

  “Terrible business this is,” slurred the man.

  Greg put his hand out to steady him. None of us knew his name or why he had taken an interest in us.

  “Yes, terrible,” agreed Jackie.

  “You know, I know exactly why they call Halloween the most haunted night of the year,” he said.

  “Really,” said Greg. “Why?”

  “Because I could have sworn that I had just seen Alice.”

  My ears perked up. “Alice?”

  “Yeah,” he replied.

  “Are you sure?” I pressed, “When?”